by Debra Kayn
“No!” She held up her hand. “Please, God, no.”
A ding sounded, and the door opened to George standing out in the hall. She hurried past Hank, nodded at George, and fairly ran down the hallway. She had to get out of here before she made an even a bigger fool of herself.
"Ava?" Hank said.
She turned around. "What?"
"The chairs?" He gazed down to his side.
Crap. She'd forgotten all about them. "George, can you take those to the lunch room?"
"Sure." George moved toward Hank, and she fled.
How could she have let him kiss her? How could she have kissed him back? How could she have lost all sense of where she was and enjoyed the way he made her feel when she thought she was dying?
She opened the door to the stairwell. The cool air caressed her overheated cheeks. She walked down a flight of stairs, stopped, and sank down onto the landing in a heap of utter confusion. Only five…no, six more days until Mr. Holland returned. Hank would leave the hotel and life would go back to normal. She could hold herself together that long.
She stood and patted her face. No one had to know she’d let Hank thoroughly kiss her moments ago. She groaned. Claustrophobic and scared, she probably had Hank believing she was the world’s worst kisser.
Chapter Six
Ava dimmed the lights in the lobby, casting the area in a warm glow for the evening. She waved to Sally on her way through the automatic doors. She inhaled deeply once outside, letting the sea air clear her head. Anxious to visit with Gram at Sunny Oak, she set off down the sidewalk. After taking care of Gram every day for years, the guilt of not checking in the last four days settled on her shoulders.
Since this was her only evening off all week, she’d called ahead and received permission to visit Gram before they locked the doors at ten o’clock. She hurried along the sidewalk. The staff at the nursing home was very caring, and because of her odd work schedule lately, she’d tried hard not to impose on their routine. But, they seemed to understand there were times she’d have to swing by after the recommended visitor hours.
An hour would give her plenty of time to make sure Gram was eating right, and the nursing staff had everything under control. She picked up her pace, glad that Gram resided so close to the hotel. It made Ava’s job easier and was one of the reasons she wanted to keep Gram at Sunny Oak.
Three blocks later, she rang the buzzer at the front of the one story building. Judy, the front desk clerk smiled from inside and gave her admittance through the locked doors.
“Hi, Judy," she said.
“I’ve been peeking in on your grandma all evening, knowing you were on your way.” Judy waved her on through. “She’s still awake.”
“Thank you.” She walked down the hallway, paused outside room twenty-one, and exhaled.
Would Gram recognize her today, or would she be having another one-sided conversation? Lately, it seemed as if her visits upset Gram more than they helped. Ava often left more worried than relieved on the bad days.
She pushed the door all the way open. “Hi, Gram.”
Amelia Walsh sat in a chair by the window, staring out into the darkness. At five-foot-three inches, and barely a hundred and twenty pounds, with gray hair and what she used to call “worry wrinkles,” her gram appeared older and more tired than her sixty-eight years.
Ava walked quietly into the room, and touched Gram’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”
Amelia Walsh’s brows rose. “Ava?”
She smiled and kneeled down on the floor. “It’s me, Gram.”
“Where have you been? You didn’t do your math sheets.” Gram turned and frowned. “I put them out on the table earlier, but you didn’t come downstairs when I called.”
“I’ll do them later, Gram.” Ava hugged her, knowing it was the right thing not to upset Gram further. “Have you eaten?”
“No. They don’t feed me here.”
She glanced at the whiteboard on the wall where she found Gram's daily schedule documented. “You didn’t have any stew?”
“Oh, yes. That was good. I didn’t much care for the dumplings though.” Amelia struggled to get out of the chair and stood. “Have you seen the flowers? They started blooming this morning.”
Ava walked with her to the mini sink. There were no flowers in her room, and it was obvious that Gram was still lost in her own world, despite recognizing her tonight.
“They’re beautiful, Gram.” She steered Gram back to the chair. “I know I haven’t stopped by much the last few days, but the new job at the hotel is keeping me busy. There’s a Cattleman’s Association convention there this week, and my boss left me in charge.”
“Oh, dear.” Gram sat down. “You’re too young to be working. Why your dad didn’t work until he was eighteen. Your grandpa thought schooling should come first. Once you start working, there’s no going back to carefree days.”
There were many times over the years that Gram had brought her father back into the picture with her memories. Ava held Gram’s hand. She’d learned long ago to listen and pretend everything was okay. When she’d tried to explain they were living in another era, Gram grew frustrated and retreated back into herself. On most days, even Ava remained a stranger to her and that hurt worse than anything did.
“There’s a cowboy at the hotel, Gram. He’s tall, dark, and handsome.” Ava studied Gram’s lined face for any hint that she understood what she was telling her. “Remember those old westerns on television we used to watch when I was little? The man, Hank, looks like he walked right out of one of those shows.”
“You need to bring him to the house, Ava.” She gave her a penetrating look. “I want to meet this young man before he’s allowed to date my granddaughter.”
Ava shook her head. “He’s a guest at the hotel. I can’t go out with him, not that I want to…he’s different.”
“Your grandpa was different too.” Amelia patted her cheek. “Different is good.”
A bundle of yarn lay on the bed, and Ava moved closer and picked the skein up. Two knitting needles stuck out of a start of a row.
She fingered the yarn. “What are you making?”
“What?”
“What are you knitting?” She carried Gram’s project over to her.
Amelia waved her hand. “That’s not mine. It’s probably Georgia’s stuff. She’s always leaving her things in my room.”
Ava put the knitting on the dresser. Her aunt Georgia had passed away before Ava was born.
“Is it time for lunch?” Gram asked.
Ava turned around. “It’s late, Gram. It's almost bedtime.”
“Heaven’s no, it’s early.” Amelia stood. “I’m going grocery shopping. I can’t find anything in this house to eat.”
Ava blocked her way. “Sit down and visit with me, Gram. I’m going to have to go back to work in a few minutes. I want to talk with you.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Amelia slapped her hand when she went to turn her around. “I don’t even know you.”
Ava stepped back. “Stay here, I’ll get your groceries.”
“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” Amelia walked back to her chair.
The doctor had told Ava at the start of their journey in seeking help for Gram’s memory, that patients suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s often became argumentative and abusive when confronted about their misunderstandings. Ava was told not to take the anger personally. But her throat tightened. No matter how many tears she shed, or how many times she tried to break through the barrier of Gram’s mind, nothing helped console Ava when Gram slipped into her own world.
She wanted nothing more than to go and kneel at Gram’s side, hold her, and tell her everything would be fine. Ava’s heart broke. More than anything, she wanted Gram to understand she’d never leave her alone, and someone would always be here to take care of her. From experience, she knew that only made things worse.
“I’ll go now.” She walked to the door, gazing over her s
houlder, and found Gram staring out the window. Already, she’d been forgotten. “I love you,” she whispered.
Gram never answered her in reply.
Outside, she let the breeze dry her tears. The scent of saltwater comforted her. This town, the circumstances, and the fact she that felt safe walking in the area she grew up in where she knew everyone, should have brought Ava comfort. Her surroundings were familiar, but she often felt stuck and unable to control what happened around her. She was doing the best she could, so why did it hurt so badly?
She longed for the past, for the security of having someone in her life who understood what she was going through. Each day she struggled alone, on the verge of either making a career for herself, or losing everything she held dear.
Two blocks west, along the oceanfront, stood the only home she knew: an older two-story cedar shake house, darkened with inactivity. She hesitated and came to a stop. Maybe she should walk home and check if the plants needed to be watered. She still had time before she should be in bed, resting for the workday tomorrow.
No. She’d handled enough stress for the day. She continued walking toward the hotel. The empty house would only depress her more.
Half of the time she wondered why she was fighting to keep a house Gram would never get to live in again. The place was too large for Ava. Maybe if she earned the job she could work something out with Mr. Holland and continue staying at the hotel. Lots of people rented their homes out during the tourist season, and she could earn money from Gram’s house. Or, she could rent a little apartment. She sighed. No, then she'd have another monthly payment. At least Gram had paid off the house and Ava only had to worry about the upkeep expenses.
She stopped at the crossroad, where the boardwalk started. She gazed toward the Holland hotel. Decisions would come easier tomorrow. She couldn’t handle anything more difficult than starting a warm shower tonight.
Feeling older than her twenty-two years, she wound her way back to the hotel. From the outside, the grand building glowed with hundreds of lights. The reflection of the moon bounced off of the western windows. She should feel a sense of pride looking at the place, but all the responsibility of running it also sat on her shoulders and scared her to death.
Why did she think she was qualified to run a hotel? Half of the time she expected Mr. Holland to storm up to the front desk and fire her. She walked through the revolving door into the lobby. The list of things going wrong at the hotel seemed to grow longer the more time Mr. Holland stayed away.
“Ava?” A deep voice came from behind her.
She gasped and whirled around. “Mr. Holland! What are you doing here?”
Chapter Seven
Hank moved out of the shadows and took off his hat. “Sorry, Ava. It’s me, Hank.”
“Oh, God.” Ava pressed her hand to her chest, and blew out her breath. “Hank, you scared me to death. You sounded exactly like my boss, Mr. Holland, and for a second I thought…”
He felt like kicking himself. Happy to find Ava, he’d forgotten to relax his speech. No wonder he sounded uptight like Drake. He was worried. “What did you think?”
“I thought you were here to fire me. I mean, that Mr. Holland was here to fire me. I can’t believe how much you sound like him.” She peered closer at him. “I never noticed it before, but when you’re scowling, you do resemble my boss a little bit…well, if he was a cowboy, which he's definitely not. Not that cowboys aren't cool. They are. It's just that he's not built like a…” she waved her hand. “I'll stop talking now.”
“I don’t scowl.” He smiled, raising his brow in the process.
She laughed. “Not now, but a moment ago you were. Is there something wrong? Were you looking for me?”
“No. I went for a walk along the boardwalk before I called it a day. I said ‘hello,’ but you walked right past me without saying anything. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He shrugged. “What did you mean when you said you thought you were going to get fired? Is it because of the car trouble this morning?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I didn’t think I did that terrible of a job today, but you never know. I’ve heard Mr. Holland only hires those who never mess up and are perfect examples of what he envisions Holland Hotels to represent. The first time you make a mistake,” she raised her hand, and made a slashing motion across her neck. “He fires you.”
“If it helps, I can put a good word in for you.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet of you, but not necessary. I’m doing my best, and that’s all I can do.”
He didn’t miss the way her shoulders dropped, and she glanced away from him. He slipped his hands into his pockets to keep from calling Drake and demanding to know what he’d done to make this woman scared of losing her job. Everything he’d seen so far showed Ava to be more than capable of holding down the managerial position.
Her resume lacked experience, but her cheerful attitude and willingness to jump in wherever she was needed spoke highly of her ability to do the job. He rocked forward in his boots. Something didn’t add up.
He peered closer at her. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her lashes spiked together.
“You’ve been crying.” He brushed the back of his hand along cheek. “Are you sure I can’t help you. I’m a great listener, or so I’ve been told.”
She stiffened and ran her fingers under her eyes. “I’m fine. I think some sand blew in my eye while I was out for a walk.”
“Yeah, that can happen when you live next door to the beach.” He wasn’t buying it.
She backed away. “I should go…”
“Before you do, can I talk to you?” He cupped her elbow and led her to the side of the lobby. “It’s about the last day of the convention.”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“I’ve got a problem, and wondered if you could help me.” He motioned for her to sit on one of the chairs and once she sat, he sat nearby. “My ranch is hosting the final get together for the convention, a mixer of sorts, and usually some kind of gift is passed out to everyone. I have no idea what to get a bunch of guys.”
“What are some of the gifts that were given out in past years?”
He rubbed his hand over his goatee. “Uh, gift cards, pens, personalized binders…those kinds of things.”
“Hm.” She leaned forward. “Not very original.”
“Exactly.”
“Most of the men probably toss them to the side after the convention is closed, too.” She pursed her lips, deep in thought. “You need something that the men will use every day to remind them of their time here, and also show your ranch brand.”
“It’s the double H.”
“Huh?” She tilted her head.
“My brand. It’s two H’s linked.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “I was thinking of the brand of ranching.”
“You’re losing me,” he frowned. “I think we’re talking about two different things.”
She clapped her hands. “No! That’ll work. It also fits with branding yourself as a ranch.”
“Now you’re talking in circles.” He leaned back in his chair.
The change in Ava stunned him. She was a beautiful woman but when she became excited, she stole his breath and he could only focus on her. It was like watching a woman come alive in bed. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, and her energy reached out and grabbed him by the balls. He stared. He couldn’t help it.
“Give me an item that a rancher uses every day. A shovel or saddle, that kind of thing.”
He cleared his throat. “A horse, ropes, gloves, uh…a knife, trailer, tractor.”
“That’s it!” She jumped to her feet. “You could give each man a pair of gloves. I wonder if we could find a company that could sew your ranch brand on them. Oh! Leather gloves could be branded, like really branded. The cowboy way.”
“Just so we’re clear, you’re talking the Double H brand, right?” He stood up.
“Yes!” She grabbed his hand. “Come up
to my suite, and we’ll look in the phone book. It’s too late to call tonight, but together we should be able to find a local business that could help you on short notice. Tomorrow morning I’ll call and see if they can do a rush job for you.”
In the elevator, he took a deep breath, trying to follow all her plans. He’d used the first thing that popped into his head to keep her talking to him, but he’d already purchased a basket full of coffee samples to give to each guest.
“Is there a price limit?” She walked him to the back and pushed the second floor button on the control panel of the elevator. “I’m thinking more of gardening gloves than the thick leather gloves I assume a rancher would use.”
“No limit. Go for the better working gloves.” He’d agree with about anything at this moment to keep the smile on her face. He hooked his hand in his pocket. For some crazy reason, he wanted her to see he wasn’t a down and out cowboy. If the size of his wallet impressed her, maybe she’d ignore the rule against fraternizing with a guest.
With their age difference, what would a one night stand hurt? He wouldn't tie her down, but for just a night, they'd both enjoy what they've been pussyfooting around. He wanted her. She wanted him. Not that he’d tell Drake about sleeping with her. That was information he’d keep to himself.
Inside her suite, he stood by the couch while she ran into the bedroom. Every cell in his body woke up and he had no clue what he was doing. He’d let the conversation run away from him. It’d cost him a load of steers, but he’d succeeded in drawing her out of the funk he’d found her in outside the hotel.
“Here we go,” she returned, flipping through the phone book. “We’ll need to find someone who creates leatherwork, maybe a shoe manufacturer, or,” she laughed. “Saddles.”
“Thompson brothers off Highway 101 repairs saddles.” He stepped closer and leaned over the book on the table. “Look under Livestock Equipment in the yellow pages.”
She licked her finger and ruffled through the pages. “Got it. They open at eight in the morning. I’m not due to work until ten thirty, so I’ll have plenty of time to put this together for you. Then, I’ll have one of the hotel staff run over on Sunday and pick them up if they’re able to do the job fast enough.” She held out a pen. “Write your phone number on the book, and I’ll have him contact you for the payment.”